Howl Moments
by TerraFlare
Summary: Howl is an odd person. So we're proving it. Oneshots follow Howl on his many adventures. Rated T for safety. Read and Review!


A/N: Hey

**A/N: Hey! It's a new story! This is concentrated on Howl and all the idiotic things he does. The title is reminiscent of a "Blonde Moment." Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hayao Miyazaki's Howl's Moving Castle or Diana Wynne Jones's Howl's Moving Castle.**

**-**_Howl Moments_**-**

Howl departed from the Flower Shop, leaving Sophie grumbling about purchasing a loaf of bread because Calcifer had consumed such while Markl attempted to fix breakfast.

He shut the door, stepping onto the cobblestone road with his normal black dress shoes, simple black pants and a loose blouse. His deep blue- almost black- hair corresponded well with his pants. He was grateful it was not the hideous orange color Sophie had caused during one of her crazy cleaning rages. He thought the dark color suited him; it was closer to his natural color than the blonde he used to dye.

Howl was shopping for a new coat. He ambled off into the busy streets-leaving Sophie with Calcifer and Markl- and only one hundred dollars in his pocket. For a first stop, he decided to check out the market.

Upon entering the crowded dock grounds, he noticed a stand beholding very well-made jackets and coats-like his harlequin coat of past. He immediately started toward the stand. The wooded table was covered with all sorts of coats: pearl fringed blue ones, elegant red jackets, fresh green and pink, and regal purple paired with gold. He curiously held up a blue and silver garment to examine. A sales associate appeared behind him.

"How may I help you?" She asked sweetly.

Howl faced her and smiled. Her deep green eyes matched the uniform she wore, and her brown hair was pulled back into a long braid- instantly reminding Howl of Sophie.

"Ah, how much is this coat?" He politely inquired.

The worker felt the border of the silver trim as if it would jog her memory.

"It is four hundred and fifty dollars, sir."

Howl gasped in a meek response. He considered ways to bump it down. His first tactic was not well-thought and failed miserably.

"It is most definitely overpriced." He nodded as if he had the authority to judge so.

The worker took the criticism pleasantly, "I could bring it down to four hundred."

Howl knew in order to buy the groceries he would need to knock down the price to around fifty dollars and he really wanted this coat.

He sniffled to start his begging, "I still have to buy groceries for my family…" He hoped his plan would work: Sophie had specifically told him he could not charm any ladies, and that he couldn't buy anything clothing for himself.

The worker listened intently, "Do you have any children?"

Howl nodded, still sniffling, "I have a wife and—" He thought for a moment: he considered Markl his son, but would Calcifer be his son? He was more like a brother or a counterpart than a child. But he was already stretching the truth since Markl wasn't his son and Sophie was not his wife…yet.

He continued, "I have a wife and two sons. We just went through our last loaf of bread, and I thought I would buy a coat for the winter so we could all share one…"

Howl's sob story appeared as if it were working especially when he added details such as his first son was eight, being Markl, and his youngest was one. He had deduced Calcfier's age by dividing it, and many times at that.

The worker seemed to be buying his story but then asked, "How much can you afford to pay for it?"

The wizard contemplated the grocery costs, pondering how much he could really spend. He deduced he could spend about seventy five dollars on the coat.

"I can afford fifty dollars." He proclaimed and wiped fake tears from his eyes. He figured she would up the price and then they would mutually agree on seventy five. The associate crossed her arms.

"How about you speak to the owner?" She pointed to a thick old man, sitting hunched on a rickety wooden chair. His husky beard reached his bulging belly; his clothes were worn and covered in patches: he did not look like he would be a seamstress and if he was; he would not make such feminine attire.

Howl arched his eyebrow, speaking to himself. He was already stretching the truth about his family. He had a mental image of himself pulling on a rope labeled 'truth' and it was about ready to break. But, he truly adored the coat and was going to do anything for it. Plus, if he didn't get it, he would feel he had lost to Sophie: even when she was not shopping with him.

He took the coat to the owner, "How much is this coat?"

The owner glanced for a split second before replying, "Five hundred fifty."

Howl gawked, "But the associate said it was four hundred fifty."

Patting his stomach, the old man answered, "That's why she hasn't been promoted. Why do you ask the price?"

Howl considered running away from the scary man before his story went bad. But a small voice in his head repeated over and over again, 'Coat. Pretty. Want.'

The wizard scratched the back of his head, "Well, I was wondering if you could lower the price. My family needs groceries, but the harsh winds of winter provoke me to purchase a new coat."

The owner grumbled and snatched the coat, feeling it like the worker, "This is made from high quality cashmere and satin. This silver trim costs fifteen dollars per yard."

Howl always had an eccentric taste, mostly for more feminine clothes, but whatever he picked was always of high quality, and therefore, expensive.

"What is your price?" The old man moaned.

Howl glanced around nervously before saying, "Fifty dollars?"

The owner's eyes grew wide, "This coat is not worth fifty dollars."

"Seventy five then? Deal?" Howl hopefully proposed.

The old man hated haggling, apparently, "No. This is at least worth four hundred. Its midsummer, you need not concern yourself with winter at the moment. Why not save your money and come back to purchase this? I can keep it aside for you."

Howl sighed at his defeat, "Thank you and I'll save for it."

The low-feeling Howl sulked away, with bent shoulders and a saddened expression. He left the stand, and bought a loaf of bread, and scuttled home. Sophie had triumphed, and he was inferior, even when she was not beside him. Yet he could still hear the voice whispering to him, 'Coat. Pretty. Want,' and decided he should save his money.

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**A/N: I hope you liked it! **


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